Guilty Pleasures
by potentialheartbreak
Summary: Dramione set in sixth year at Hogwarts/ after the war. Having secretly longed for one another as teenagers, what long-hidden feelings will Hermione and Draco's reunion bring about? Dramione story flash back/ flash forward
1. Chapter 1

It had always been this way, Draco thought. He would take the long way back to the Slytherin common room after practice every day, always with a new excuse as to why he would be late. Taking the long way around the castle, past the Astronomy tower, up the spiraling staircases till he reached his destination. Every day he performed this exhausting ritual, hiding from the occasional questioning eyes of his fellow classmates as he darted through the quiet castle. Most of the students were dining in the Great Hall, yet a few stragglers were always about, perhaps even performing their own secret rituals. Draco often thought of this, the connections between students alike. How very often he was surprised that they were just like him, yet so very different.

So on this early September evening, as the setting sun shone valiantly through the castle's high windows, Draco walked with a fervor, having been so long denied this secret guilty pleasure over the course of a summer. How he had missed the anticipation of seeing her, neck craned at such a delightfully elegant angle, over a book larger than her own head. Fingers passionately gliding over leather-bound books, hair cascading down her petite frame as she greedily absorbed new knowledge. On this peculiar ritual, Draco often thought, "this will be the time I appear to her. This will be the day I show myself." Yet day after day, Draco silently paced the library's floors, glancing at her every few moments, until, exhausted and full of longing, he escaped to his more public routines. It was always a different girl, so deliriously excited to be chosen by the Slytherin prince, willing to do anything for him. They didn't realize they would never be good enough for him. They would never be Hermione.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione skimmed through Hogwarts: A History for the thousandth time, performing her start-of-school ritual. It was one of many guilty pleasures for her, cracking the binding of her worn book, taking comfort in the familiar words and the soft lull in which they cradled her mind like a warm embrace. This was one thing that was always able to bring Hermione absolute peace.  
That is, until she noticed Draco Malfoy.  
Hermione always noticed Draco, whether he was laughing in the Great Hall with his friends or gliding a hand through his hair on the Quidditch Pitch. She noticed the way the sun glinted off his sliver-blonde hair, and the way he smirked whenever he said her name. She noticed his glances at her in class, getting longer and longer each time she looked back. She knew the gentle movement of his hand as he took notes in Charms, and the way he took his tea on Sunday mornings. This was her biggest secret, the part of her she kept hidden from her closest friends. The part of her infatuated with Draco Malfoy.  
It was the start of term, the first night back at Hogwarts. While her friends were making merry in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione had quietly slipped out, seeking peace and quiet in her favorite room of the castle. Now she sat by the window, a cool breeze blowing her hair gently away from her sweater as she read her favorite book. A shockingly loud bang erupted from a few bookshelves away, forcing Hermione to snap out of her reverie and yank out her wand. She had thought she was quite alone in the library, and had finally let her guard down. Slipping out of her chair she crept behind the looming shelves and whispered, "lumos."  
The soft light beaming from her wand glinted against white-blonde hair. Hair that she knew almost as well as her own. She let out a soft yelp.  
"Fancy meeting you here, Granger," mumbled a bruised Malfoy from under her feet.  
"Oh my god," she said. "What on earth are you doing on the library floor Malfoy?"  
"Well Granger, as lovely as my view is from down here, I am not here by choice."  
It was only now Hermione realized the position they were in. Her Hogwarts skirt, bunched higher than usual from her slouching in her seat, gave Malfoy a generous view from his spot on the floor, lying flat on his back.  
"Oh you sorry wanker!" she stomped away, not offering him help off the floor.  
"Granger," he grunted. "For once in your life could you not be such a sad sack and have a bit of a laugh? No wonder your friends chose to get smashed instead of be with you."  
Hermione bit back a haughty laugh. "For your information, Malfoy," she sneered, "I left the party for some peace and quiet. Thank you ever so much for interrupting me." At this Malfoy gave a loud guffaw, attracting the attention of the omnipresent Madam Pince.  
"Who's there?" she cried. "The library is closed!"  
Draco, having silently gotten to his feet, gently pushed Hermione closer to the shelf behind her, effectively hiding her in the shadows. "What are you do-" "Shhh!" Draco interrupted. To his surprise, Hermione didn't fight him off, even when he pressed closer to her, pinning her against the bookshelf. They waited till Madam Pince had toddled to the back of the library to separate themselves. "I cannot believe you Malfoy," Hermione whispered violently. "What are you even doing in the library?"  
"I could ask you the same question, since the library is closed."  
Hermione bristled. "Madam Pince is very lenient with me. I don't want that leniency to end because of her getting the," she gestured to the small space between their bodies, "the wrong idea."  
"And what would that idea be, Granger?" Draco asked coyly."  
"Honestly Draco, if you keep smirking like that your face will freeze that way."  
And just like that, she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Draco awoke the next morning to the sounds of a snoring Hufflepuff fifth year, a girl he plucked out of the waiting crowd for a night in his bed. He chose her right after Hermione departed from the library, leaving Draco bothered and frustrated. And what better way to take out one's frustration than meaningless sex?

Draco was used to this routine, giving a girl extra glances in a crowded place. Girls always found silly cliches like that romantic for some reason unbeknownst to him. After that brief introduction, it only took a few cheeky comments, a few carefully placed fingers brushing against a hip, and just like that, they were his.

He was growing tired of this cycle however, and so he left before the fifth year had woken, leaving her to find her own way out. He got dressed quickly, and walked out the door. He didn't remember her name, anyway.

Hermione hadn't slept a minute the night of the library incident. Lying awake in her room, alone except for Crookshanks, she tossed and turned, thinking of Draco and the feel of his arms around her, the smell of his spearmint toothpaste and old parchment wafting through the air. Having just come from Quidditch practice, he was still in his grass stained uniform, giving off a faint scent of summer that was intoxicating to her. That moment, pressed against the shelves with Draco's every muscle taut against her, kept Hermione from sleeping, instead dreaming of what that would feel like with less distance between them.

Now, exhausted and unfulfilled from last night's endeavors, Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, pushing her eggs around her plate.

"Hermione, are you alright? You've barely said a word." Harry inquired, looking at her expectantly.

"Yes, Harry, I'm fine," she lied. "Just a little stressed over school."

"Honefly Herfmoiney" Ron began with a mouth full of eggs and sausage. He swallowed it down noisily. "It's only the second day!"

"I didn't sleep as well as I normally do last night. I'm not used to not sharing a dorm with anyone."

"Oh, yes Hermione. We all feel so sorry for you! Prefects privileges are so difficult to deal with." Ginny joked from farther down the table.

Hermione genuinely laughed at Ginny's mockery along with the rest of her friends. She just hoped they would't see through her thinly veiled secret of last night's encounter with-

"Ugh," spewed Ron. "Look who it is. Didn't miss seeing his nasty face over the summer did we mates?"

At this Hermione looked up. The air around the Great Hall seemed to change. A dangerous brew of respect, contempt, fear and admiration seemed to waft over the students as strongly as the scent of the sausages. For finally, Draco Malfoy showed up to breakfast. He strode over to the Slytherin table and sat next to Pansy, who looked absolutely delighted. He draped an emerald-clad arm over her broad shoulders, and laughed loudly at something Blaise said. Slowly, the Hall eased back into normalcy, already over Draco's flamboyant appearance.

Hermione, however, only seemed to shove her eggs around even more.

"Echem," a familiar voice cleared, having risen from his chair in the midst of the commotion. "Good morning, my students. I hope all of you had a good night's sleep, for today is the official start of term. I am pleased to announce your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Professor Snape."

Harry angrily clenched his fists from across the table, and Hermione reflexively reached out to calm him. A smattering of short-lived applause greeted Professor Snape as he bowed and took his seat. Hermione had stopped paying attention, instead dividing her time between Harry and Ron's belligerent whispers over Snape's promotion, and Draco's sudden change in mood. He had gone from positively jovial to moody and anxious, having pushed Pansy away and running his hans through his overgrown hair.

Hermione, mortified over her reaction to his aggressive hand combing, didn't hear Dumbledore's cue for their introduction, something neither Hermione nor Draco were informed about. "Witches and Wizards, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy!"

Hermione nervously jumped from her seat, knocking over a plate and striding to the Professors Table. Draco arrived shortly after, having hid his anxiety in his arrogant stride.

"Students, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy are your two new two brightest pupils will lead you this year with pride, dignity, and loyalty. They will put your needs above their own, agree to honor the school's best interests, and conspire to raise each and every student to greatness. Do you so agree, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger?" At this Dumbledore looked lovingly at them both, and Hermione felt a surge of emotion for the older Wizard. "I do," she said. "I do," followed Draco.

"Wonderful! I hope you all have a lovely first day, and let's have a round of applause for our two prefects!" The students cheered as Dumbledore requested a private meeting, and they followed him into the back room.

"Well, I suppose a congratulations is in order." Hermione beamed; Draco scowled. "As I'm sure you know by now, your rooms are connected. This will make it much easier for your nightly meetings to commence-" "WHAT?" roared Hermione. "Professor, are rooms are not connected!" "Actually, Granger," Draco drawled, "they are. I noticed last night."

Hermione realized she must have stormed right past it in her fury last night.

"Well, well what does that mean?" she stuttered.

Dumbledore sighed. "It means, Ms. Granger, that you and Mr. Malfoy must have a strong relationship in order to fulfill your roles as prefects. It is not an easy job, and you will need each other to lean on. The connected dorms are a way to help strengthen that bond, and to get rid of the inconvenience of having to search each other out for your nightly meetings." Hermione desperately searched his face for a sign that he was kidding, but Draco's smug sneer told her otherwise. "Hermione," he breathed, intoxicating her once more. "If spending an hour of your time with me every day is really that much of an inconvenience for you, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore could find a replacement."

"Now, Mr. Malfoy,"

"No." Hermione interrupted. "It will be fine." She glared menacingly at Draco, and he smirked back, loving the flustered look on her face.

"Splendid! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have toast and kippers waiting for me."

Dumbledore stepped out of the room, his cloak billowing just before the door snapped shut.

"Well, well, well. Granger and Malfoy. What a pair."

"Oh just shut it Malfoy." she snapped. "As long as we keep our distance from one another, this situation will be absolutely fine."

"Good Granger, I agree completely." He threw her off guard, making her stammer.

"You, you do?" He stepped closer to her, forcing her to take a step back and hitting her back against the cold stone wall.

"Yes Granger, I think if we both keep our distance, this will work fine. There's just one little problem." He leaned into her and whispered gently into her hair. "I don't want to."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The first day of term was relatively uneventful for Draco. The days events seemed to pale in comparison after his brief encounter with Hermione at breakfast. She seemed to have that effect on him, making the world around him seem to dim whenever she left his side. It was just before sunset when Draco fell onto his sofa after a particularly brutal Quidditch practice. The first match was just two days away, and the team needed much more practice if they had a chance against Gryffindor. Now that he was captain, the pressure was on him to turn his team's excess violence into grace and skill. All he had wanted to do was return to his dorm, get himself a cold one and pass out on the sofa. However, a loud roar of frustration and a thump against the wall behind him told him that only one of those things were to happen. Scanning the walls, he searched for the door that would connect him to Hermione, something he had missed in his rush in and out of the room previously. He realized he had yet to unpack, or really look around, but decided that too could wait. Finally, he found the door, and with his scotch in one hand, pushed it open.

Hermione sat in the middle of her floor, in gray joggers and a pale blue t shirt. She looked positively disheveled, her ill-fitting shirt bunched flirtatiously above her hipbones, giving Draco the smallest peak at creamy skin beneath it. She had yet to notice him, and stomped to her feet in frustration. Her hair, having grown considerably over the summer, she had tossed into a messy braid, where it now lay down her back. Draco thought she looked beautiful.

"And where in the FUCK are my books!?" she screamed.

"Probably not in my room," Draco said, causing her to jump. "But judging by the considerable hole you've put in my wall they very well could be."

"What are you doing in here?" she angrily asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"I was enjoying some peace and quiet," he gestured to his glass. "Till I was rudely interrupted by a screaming lunatic."

"I'm trying to unpack, and I can't find the box with my books," she meekly explained. She began to pace, searching each and every box frantically. She became a whirlwind around him, flitting from one box to the next.

"Accio books."

Draco performed the spell as a box of books, wedged under the sofa, skidded across the floorboards and landed in front of her. "Oh, yes. I forgot."

"That you were a witch? Yes Granger, it would appear so."

It was just now she really looked at him, leaning against their connecting doorjam cockily. He looked devilishly fit, sweaty and grass stained in his Quidditch uniform. Hermione blushed as he ran a hand through his hair. She gulped loudly. "I suppose now would be a good a time as ever to have our meeting."

"Right." Draco chugged his glass, which was nearly full to begin with, and slammed it down on her bookshelf. "Right after I take a shower." He nodded and set off in pursuit of her washroom.

Hermione, still a tad dazed over Draco's appearance, didn't quite pick up on what he was doing. "What? Wait, WAIT!" she ran after him down the hallway. "What are you doing!? Shower in your own room!"

"Oh but it's so faaar!" Draco whined from farther down the hall. Using his much longer legs, he reached the bathroom before her and cracked the door enough to see her face. "I'll just be a second!" and shut the door on her. Laughing to himself as she banged on the door, he stripped down and turned the water on.

After a few minutes, Hermione gave up on coaxing him out, and sat down to ponder the night's turn of event's.

"Okay," she whispered. "Draco Malfoy has seen me in my pajamas. He has barged into my filthy room. Malfoy is in my bath. Malfoy is in my bath." She buried her face in her hands, wondering why she was acting like a flustered school girl. Oh, right, she thought. She grabbed her wand and put everything left out on the floor in it's place, and hid the rest in her closet. She lit a few of her candles and set about making a pot of tea.

A few minutes later, as she was bringing the tea into the little living room, she nearly fainted. For, sitting on her sofa, was Malfoy, lounging in nothing more than one of her towels. "Granger, I must say I love what you've done with the place."


	5. Chapter 5

Although his feelings for Hermione had drastically changed from first year, one thing remained the same. He loved to antagonize her. Now, sitting in her bath towel on her sofa,watching as her face turned fifty shades of scarlet, Draco was quite pleased with himself. "What are you doing?" she muttered, her voice dangerously low.

"I believe I'm waiting for you to begin this meeting."

Granger took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back and marched into the little room from the kitchen. Hermione sat down and handed him his tea, bringing out a notebook with the upcoming week's agenda on it. As she began talking, Draco surveyed the room around him.

The prefects dorms were organized like little posh flats, something Hermione adored and Draco merely put up with. Hermione's dorm was drastically different from his, with framed pictures of her friends on the walls, magical and muggle. There were minor things that hinted at her house, like the moving lions head in one frame and the scarlet and gold scarf hanging by the door. Many things had yet to be unpacked, as Draco noticed the boxes in the kitchen. However, Hermione's dorm, with blue and white prints and well-loved books on the shelves, looked positively homey to Draco, a comfort he was not used to having even in his own home.

"Draco?" she asked, pulling him out of his own head. "Any thoughts?"

Draco shook his head. "Sorry?"

Hermione looked puzzled by his sudden politeness, and took a moment to answer.

"The start of term dance? On friday? We need a theme."

Draco pretended to ponder, all the while just studying Hermione's face. She seemed confused by him. He decided to carry on his joke a little farther, and with a decisive nod of his head, said, "masquerade."

To his shock and dismay, Hermione's eyes lit up. He could practically see her mind's wheels turning. "That's perfect! She exclaimed, he groaned. "No no no really! It's the start of term and so many people look different, and the first years would hardly know anyone, it's wonderful!" Groaning even louder, Draco slid lower into his seat. "Granger, that's a bloody ridiculous idea. In fact, every idea you've said tonight has been bloody ridiculous." Draco didn't know why he decided to become nasty again. He was wary of how quickly her walls crumbled before him, as if he were someone to trust, or genuinely like. He was used to keeping safe, playing girls cooly as if it were all a game of chess. However, Hermione had been too open, too trusting, and it scared him. Suddenly emboldened by his previous drink, he thought, I ought to teach her a lesson.

"Hermione, I don't know how you believe this year is going to work. But we are not friends."

She reddened. "I-"

"Not only are we not friends, but I wouldn't even consider us acquaintances. I have been forced to spend time with you because of fucking prefects work, the most boring job in the universe. So pardon me, I thought I could make things interesting with a little shag here and a song there, but I've come to the conclusion that not even a shag would be worth putting up with your incessant babbling a moment longer."

At this point, Hermione was enraged, yet, Draco thought, she strangely looked as though she were about to cry.

"I hate you," she murmured. "I thought you had changed, being pleasant to me and all. But you're the same cruel, vile little boy I slapped in third year. Now get out."

Draco stood, angrily staring down at her before pushing past her and back into his dorm. He only let his shame show as the door closed behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hermione sat on the floor for a while after Draco had left. She knew that this was just Malfoy, playing his little games and messing with people's heads. She knew she shouldn't be affected by it. Yet, for some reason, he had seemed different for a moment. It was the most honest and genuine she had ever seen him. She knew that she was only so upset because of her little crush on him, but even that seemed to be fading. The problem was, Draco had just voiced Hermione's worse fears. That no one could stand to put up with her, that boys would use her like Ron had that dreadful night over the summer. Although they had talked about it awkwardly, apologized to one another profusely, and vowed to never tell Harry or speak of it again, those fears would not seem to go away. Draco's antics would never have affected her at all before. Except, things were different now. Draco was a mystery to her, and she would not rest until she solved him.

Draco's night of self-destruction had only just begun. Hating himself for letting his guard down, and even thinking of Granger as anything but an annoying mudblood, Draco set about getting himself ridiculously drunk. Around the fifth glass of scotch and the twelfth shot of firewhiskey, Draco believed it to be a grand idea to look for the Weasel and Potter.

He found them a short while later, coming in from a late-night quidditch practice. Weasel looked thoroughly pleased with himself, as he had just made Potter laugh at something probably extremely dull. "Oh, look who it is, Harry! Our favorite ferret!" Harry chuckled and made to continue past Malfoy without even looking at him. Draco, however, had other plans.

"Oh no," he said. "Insulted by a sidekick weasel! That just absolutely ruined my night. Looks like your girlfriend will have to comfort me." Harry grimaced and Ron turned bright red. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Why weasel, I know you're not very bright but surely you can remember the mudblood's name." Ron stepped menacingly forward. "_Hermione _is not my girlfriend."

Harry remained ominously quiet. "Ooh, now this is interesting," Draco slurred. "The weasel and the mudblood have called it quits! Ah well, it was more fun when I thought she was cheating! Still an awful lot of fun though, isn't she?" He knew this would get under the boy's skin, yet he was surprised when it was Harry who brutally shoved him by the collar into the stone wall opposite him.

"Malfoy," he spit. "I know you are clearly finding yourself very funny, but you ought to be careful talking about Hermione like that."

"I'm not joking, Potter," Draco spat back. "Sorry to throw a wrench in your golden threesome." Harry immediately dropped him, disgusted. "Get out of my sight," he said. "And cherish every moment before Hermione finds out about this."

"Why, I'll go right back to her bed right now and tell her all about it, Potty. She might even fuck me again for it!"

Ron lunged at Draco's throat, but Potter caught him before he could make contact.

"That's right, Weasel. Have lover-boy here restrain you."

They both glowered at him, and Harry mumbled a "let's go Ron," before they disappeared down the end of the corridor. Quite chuffed, Draco somehow found his way to his dorm, stumbling the whole way back. Wrenching the door open, he fell through the doorway and gripped the knob to what he thought was his bedroom, ready to collapse. However, the door he fell into wasn't his own, but the connector to Hermione's dorm. He fell straight through the doorway and into her bookshelf, causing Hermione to scream and draw her wand from her seat on the couch.

"Malfoy!" she roared. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Sunbathing," he mumbled sarcastically, while books dug into his spine.

"Well, get up!"

"Mmmmmh can't."

He heard Hermione mumble something rude under her breath, before feeling her hands delicately press under his arms, lifting him off the broken bookshelf. She stumbled under his weight, hitting the wall with him completely leaning on her. Grunting, Hermione slung his arm over her shoulders and began the trek to his own bed.

In his drunken stupor, he thought of how nicely she fit under his arm, being so much shorter than him. She looked the same from earlier, though her hair was a bit looser and her eyes tired. Her face was flushed from the effort of dragging him, biting her lip in concentration. Draco would remember the next morning that she smelled like lilacs.

"Alright?" he asked.

"Just-" grunt, "lovely."

Finally they reached his bed. Hermione turned to drop Draco onto it, but he grabbed her shoulder at the last moment, sending her flying backwards underneath him on the bed.

"Oof, Draco get off!"

"I can't!" he yelled back, realizing his shirt sleeve had gotten caught in her hair.

Hermione's face was a bright pink, with Draco having fallen directly between her legs on top of her. His hair tousled, eyes shining, and smelling faintly like firewhiskey, she deemed their situation entirely hopeless.

"Here," she said, as calmly as possible. "Let me try." She reached up to where his sleeve was caught, her fingertips brushing his, causing little electric shocks to jolt his arm back, pulling her head along with it. Suddenly, their faces were very close together, and Draco was very, very drunk.

"Draco," she murmured, her voice low. "What's happened?"

He stared at her a moment longer, before whispering, "everything."

And then he kissed her.

Hermione went so still, it was if she had been turned to stone. Draco was gentle, and his lips much softer than she ever thought they'd be. Not that she thought about them all the time or anything. Draco pulled away from her to find her eyes still closed and her lips slightly parted, a flushed pink from their chaste kiss. Then, her eyes flicked open and she grabbed onto his tousled hair, pulling him back down to her.

He moaned, deepening the kiss, holding her body as close to him as possible. She ran he fingers through his hair and down his chest, her every touch sending flames shooting through him. Fooling around had never felt like this before, like his every move was perfectly countered by her. She sat up, pushing him away. He was terrified she had come to her senses, had realized how dangerous this was, how irresponsible. Yet to his pleasure, instead of pushing him away, she reached forward, tugging his shirt over his head. At some point in their skirmish, his shirt had come free of her wild hair. Draco realized what she was doing, and ripped it over his head. Grabbing her by the waist, he began to kiss her neck, earning him soft moans that electrified his veins.

"Oh, Draco," she moaned.

It was this, her saying his name, that sent him spiraling, attacking his senses, loosening his muscles and blurring his vision. She was better than flying, better than firewhiskey. She was electrifying, pure flames setting fire to his senses. He was lost in her.

He groaned, pushing her back down on the bed. He collapsed beside her, and finally gave in to the effects of the firewhiskey. He fell asleep on her chest, breathing in the scent of lavender and firewhiskey.

Hermione lay still, her mind racing and chest pounding. Her whole body felt shocked, as if she had been hit with a spell. She had no idea what had come over her, only that she didn't regret it, which scared her terribly. She was terrified that she wanted him, wanted more. Now, with Draco's hair tickling her collarbone, she began something dangerous. She began to wonder if he felt the same.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione lay awake, contemplating performing a memory charm on Draco before he woke up. She hated herself for what she had done, and how she felt while doing it. An inescapable flame had swelled within her chest that had yet to be extinguished. Hermione thought of Harry and Ron, and what they would think of her. She was in the midst of reciting her "it never happened, you were drunk and I was lonely" speech when Draco rolled over, gripping her waist and curling deeper into her side. Her fingers, which were idly toying with his hair, now rested on his forehead, pressed against her ribcage. She stayed still, hoping he wouldn't sober up. Instead, his eyelids fluttering, he whispered, "Hermione."

Her stomach flipped, sending little shivers down to her toes. She resumed stroking his silky hair when he whispered again, "don't leave." She stilled at the sound of his voice that sounded completely sober. He must have sensed her shock, because he gripped her even tighter and murmured, "don't. leave."

"Okay, Draco," she whispered. "I won't. I won't leave."

Morning came and with it, the realization that Hermione was not in her own bed. She had planned to leave after Draco had fallen back asleep, but had woken up wrapped around him, his arms encircling her head, her lips pressed against his bare chest. One of his legs were between her own, their hips connected like puzzle pieces. He was breathing deeply, his hair a disheveled mess. His face was serene, the most relaxed she'd ever seen him. She decided it would only make a disastrous situation worse if she were here when he eventually woke. Untangling herself gently, so as not to wake him, Hermione padded her way back to her room to get ready for the day. She left the door open behind her.

Hermione raked her hair into a ponytail, letting her curls cascade down her back, the way Ron used to like them. She felt the need for forgiveness for what had taken place last night, if even subliminally. She passed a mirror on her way out the door, and noticed a glow on her face that hadn't been there for months. It was the best sleep she had had in a long time.

Draco awoke to a cold, empty bed. The weather outside seemed to agree with his feelings, a cold, rainy day with a violent thunderstorm on the way. He felt a pathetic sadness in waking up alone, and recalled the many occasions when he had been on the opposite end of the situation. He groaned and rolled over, when a familiar scent attacked his senses. His pillows smelled of her, lavender and honey, sweet and tantalizing. It seemed to tease him, making him beg for one more taste and fading each time he got it. Finally he managed to pull himself out of bed, finding his forgotten uniform tossed onto the floor. Memories of the night before hit him like a train, forcing him to sit down. Holding his head for dear life, he saw images burned into his memory of Hermione moaning his name, her hands running through his hair, the softness of the skin over her hipbones making him want to rip himself apart in anguish. He wanted more, yet was disgusted by it. He loved the feel of her, yet hated the way he felt afterwards. She was worse than firewhiskey. At least those hangovers didn't give you a raging boner, he thought. After a not so quick shower, Draco realized not only had he slept through breakfast, but was now late for class.

He arrived to Charms five minutes late, slipping into a seat near the back, undetected by Professor Flitwick. Flitwick was reciting the schedule for the day, now that the Quidditch match was rescheduled for the next day, the dance that same night. It was Friday morning, with half classes. This news cheered Malfoy up a bit, till he realized in his haste, he had slipped into the empty seat right next to Weasley. "Morning Weasel," Draco said, a smirk on his face.

"Morning ferret. How'd you sleep last night? One eye open?"

This would be too easy, thought Draco.

"Well, honestly Weasley, I didn't get much sleep at all."

Ron chuckled, now completely ignoring the Professor's attempts at holding their attention. "Now why was that, Malfoy?"

"Well, Weasel," he began, so smug his jaw twitched. "Hermione kept me awake all night."

But Ron wasn't giving in that easy. "What'd she do? Hex you? Quite good at them you know, and you most probably deserved it."

"Well no, not quite. You see she was interested in doing some, _recreational activities._ Ya know Ronald, I told her I was tired, but, she was having none of it."

Ron's fists were shaking, though he tried to calm himself down. Draco followed his gaze across the room, to where Hermione was sitting, oblivious to their current bickering. She looked radiant, despite the rain. Draco noticed her hair, flowing down her back, and decided he fancied it more flowing free.

"Hermione would never dare touch someone as vile as yourself. She's got better taste."

"Well, she shagged you didn't she?"

Ron turned scarlet, clashing with his hair furiously. "Oh, there it is Weasel. That's what I was looking for. Ya know, Hermione is quite strange. You probably know this but, if you kiss her neck right under her jaw, she just makes the sexiest noises-"

This had been the breaking point, this exact fact that Ron thought he alone would know. Ron had jumped up, swinging wildly at Draco, his fist connecting with his jaw. Draco ducked and swung back, giving Ron a black eye. The class had erupted, some students scrambling, others cheering. Professor Flitwick tried desperately to separate them, but the boys remained in an all-out brawl. Draco's split lip and Ron's purple neck only seemed to spur them on even more, until finally;

"DRACO!"

The boys stopped, pushing each other away. Ron wiped at his bleeding nose while Draco gripped his bruised jaw. It took him a moment to realize the importance of what had just transpired.

Hermione's was the only voice that stopped them both dead. Hermione was the one who could make them both do anything to please her. But more importantly, Draco's was the name she chose to call. Everyone in the room knew it, including Ron. In this fight, she had chosen Draco. Hermione stood on the other side of the room, fists clenched and thunder booming over them, like a furious angel. She seemed shocked and nervous, not understanding what had been brewing between the two boys till it was too late.

"Lads, I would suggest you collect your things and leave my classroom immediately," squeaked Professor Flitwick. The majority of students didn't move. Ron grabbed his books and stormed out of the room. Hermione looked like she wished she were anywhere in the world but here at the moment. Draco stood still, surveying the room, before taking a deep bow to the delight of his fellow Slytherins. He too, grabbed his books and practically marched out. Draco vaguely heard Professor Flitwick shouting, already half way down the hall. Weasel was nowhere to be seen.

"Wait! Draco, wait! Stop, stop walking. What the fuck was that!?"

Draco turned around to see a very angry Hermione barreling towards him. He waited until she was directly in front of him, practically an inch apart before saying,

"Why me?"

She blinked. "Wha- What?"

"Why did you call my name and not his?"

Standing in front of him, he felt her anxiety rolling off her like waves. Her inner turmoil was written so clearly on her face, he wanted to reach out and calm the seas raging inside her. Yet he knew, he was the cause of it. "I don't know," she whispered.

"Then I don't know either."

"Draco, Draco c'mon, Draco where are you going?"

He whirled on her. "You left this morning."

"Draco, you were drunk and-"

"No," he said forcefully. "Don't pin this on me."

"Pin, pin this on you!?" she exclaimed. "Draco you literally broke my bookshelf, which will take forever to fix by the way, and forced me to carry you back to your bed."

"Yea, alright, did I force you to do anything afterwards, Granger? Hm?" For once, Hermione had nothing to say. "And you left, this morning. When I asked you last night you said you wouldn't."

"Draco," she paused. "How could I have stayed?"

"You called my name, Hermione. Not his."

And with that, he left her alone in the empty hallway, clutching to her books for support. She watched his retreating figure as it hit a moving staircase and left her vision.

Fuck you, fuck this, fuck you, don't look at me, fuck you, fuck her, fuck this.

Draco's internal monologue was a stream of profanities directed at the students unlucky enough to pass him in the halls. So enraged was he at his conflicted feelings, he decided it was a terrible mistake to get out of bed at all today, and it would be much better for everyone around him if he knicked some tea and biscuits from the house elves and returned to the scene of the crime. Hopefully some of her scent would linger long enough for him to regret missing it.

Compared to the events of the morning, the rest of Hermione's day passed rather uneventfully, though she felt sick the whole afternoon. At lunch, Ron, Harry, nor Draco were to be seen, to the delight of the school gossips and third years alike. Hermione picked at her sausage nervously, pretending to take Luna's nargle inspection seriously. So distracted was she over Draco that Hermione burnt her hand in Potions that afternoon, failing the lesson. Now, exhausted and frustrated, she decided to skip dinner altogether and go straight to the library. She spent a few hours there, till her cold and worn body slumped in the seat and her eyes would barely focus. She stumbled back to her room around one o'clock in the morning. Upon closing the door, she caught sight of her newly re-built bookshelf. There was a note.

Hermione,

I'm sorry.

No name, context, or even hint, yet Hermione knew what it meant immediately. Now suddenly wide awake, she kicked off her shoes and ripped away her uniform. She stripped down to her knickers, putting on a large Irish Quidditch Team T-shirt she'd gotten with Harry and Ron back in fourth year. Seeing it filled her with more anxiety, but she quickly pushed those feelings aside as she pushed open Draco's door.

Barefooted, she picked her way over to his bedroom door. Before she could question her sanity, she nudged the door open to see his naked back, illuminated by the moon, giving him a silver glow. She came to the bed, lifting the covers and crawling inside. She had assumed he was asleep until he rolled over and lifted his arm, inviting her to share in his silvery warmth. She happily obliged, earning her a happy moan escaping Draco's lips.

In his deepest, sleep-coated voice, he murmured, "What does this mean?"

She wrapped around him tighter and whispered, "I don't know."

Instead of getting angry or belligerent, he gently kissed her forehead and pulled the covers up over them. "And I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of our age."

She laughed quietly, the sound of which made his chest feel as if it were about to explode. He hated himself.

"Don't push it."

And with that, they fell asleep, blissfully unaware of how complicated things were about to be.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Draco, get up. C'mon, let me see your face." Draco groaned, rolling over, away from Hermione and the day's duties ahead. "Draco, we've overslept. The match is in two hours and we have last minute planning to do." He groaned again, rolling back towards her and opening one eye. She was running around his room in nothing but a t shirt and knickers, something he definitely had not realized the night before. The sight of her sent his blood rushing south, making him grip the sheets to try and control himself. Her face was flushed, the muscles in her long legs taut as she got on tip toe to wrench the curtains open, allowing bright sunlight to seep into the room. He closed his eyes against the brightness, and when he opened them again, Hermione was stretching, her long, dark curls falling down her back artistically. What made it so beautiful was knowing how natural she was, having just woken up in his arms. Her milky skin still had a light golden tint from the embrace of the summer sun, making her look almost holy. She turned back round, staring at him as he gripped his head in pain.

"C'mon Malfoy, it can't be that bad. Unless you want to play this match with a split lip and swollen jaw, you best let me heal it."

Draco grudgingly took his hands away from his head and sat up, running a hand through his hair. Hermione placed a hand gently on his chest, causing that electric heat to run through him again. With her other hand, she gripped her wand, pointing at his chin and murmuring a healing spell. "Curatio."

Draco closed his eyes, letting her spell heal his bruised skin. Once it was over, he scrunched up his face, squinting at her through one eye.

"Is it over?" She sighed. "Yes, now get up. I'll make you some tea."

She padded back to her room, and he heard her fill the kettle. He was surprised how willing she was to take care of him, and how he would do the same for her. Shaking his head, he got up, willing his uncomfortable partner to settle down before she came back in and noticed. She entered his bedroom a short while later, hair braided back from her face. She handed him a warm mug of tea, and he accepted it with a strange look.

"Granger?" She turned back around from the doorway. "What?"

He paused, giving her a crooked smile. "How is it you know exactly how I take my tea?"

Hermione wished the floor would swallow her up whole.

Thoughts racing, chest pounding, and cheeks flushing, she stuttered, "I, I just guessed is all."

"Granger," he laughed, barely able to contain himself. "You just happened to guess exactly how I take my tea?"

She nodded, her face on fire.

"Completely black with four spoonfuls of honey?"

"A lot of people do that, Malfoy."

He laughed loudly. "No, no no, Granger. A lot of people most certainly do _not_. In fact, I know of no one else that takes their tea like I do."

Her mouth had gone dry, as Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously at her over the lip of his mug. He had caught her, knowing what an obsessive fool she must be for knowing that. She decided the only way to relieve herself of the situation would be to embarrass him.

"You might want to take care of that, by the way," she said, pointing to his clearly erect member, where he thought he had hidden it under the sheets. He groaned, setting his mug down and getting off the bed. He began to playfully walk towards her, causing her to stumble in to the wall. "D'you think you could do it for me?"

She tried not to smile, pushing him back into his side of the door and closing it in his face. "Aww c'mon then!" he yelled.

"Sort it out yourself!" she playfully called back.

Draco walked out onto the Quidditch Pitch, to the cheers of fellow Slytherins and Hufflepuffs alike. The first match of the year was against Ravenclaw, an easy match for Slytherin. There were many Gryffindor students in attendance, rooting for Ravenclaw of course. Draco knew Hermione would not be in attendance, having to see to last minute Ball preparations. Slytherin thoroughly pummeled Ravenclaw, Draco catching the snitch awfully early in the game. It was a complete blowout. There was a pre-ball party in the Slytherin common rooms, which Draco attended and got a light buzz. Being the reason for Slytherin's win, girls hung off him, vying for his attention. Yet this time was different. This time he didn't let them.

Hermione was stressed, to put it lightly. The Weird Sisters had missed their portkey, making them most probably late for the ball. Most of the decorations had yet to be put up by the students on the Ball committee, as they had decided to attend the match instead. Hermione was know pacing the Great Hall, her once-tight braid hanging loose and wild across her shoulder. Her jeans and t-shirt were wrinkled, covered in dirt. Her face was smeared with grime from cleaning, finding much more satisfaction doing it the muggle way. She was just running through the checklist one last time when a crash from the entrance of the hall distracted her.

There was Draco, sweaty and dirty from the Quidditch match. His face was flushed, a devilish gleam in his eye. Hermione could tell immediately that Draco had been drinking.

"Ello, darlin," he called from the doorway.

Hermione went bright red, running to the entryway before anyone else noticed him. Thankfully, most of the other students were near the back, setting up the stage for the band. "What-are-you-doing!?" she whisper-yelled.

"I came to help," he said, almost apologetically. He looked sheepish, like a little boy caught doing something naughty. "Well, maybe you should've come to help _before _getting buzzed! Now go sober up. And don't come back till you do!" Hermione scolded him. Draco, frowned and went back to his room.

Hours later, a frayed Hermione returned to her room in a frenzy. She took a quick, scalding shower, casting moisturizing and drying spells over her hair and body. She put on her earrings and elegant, simple diamond pendant necklace. She slipped on heels and her emerald green gown, letting her hair flow in vintage curls down her back. She strapped on her black masquerade mask, her eyes shrouded in dark makeup. Ginny normally helped her, but Hermione was just too busy planning the ball for any excess preparation. She glanced in a mirror as she fixed her hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin dewey. Her eyes had messy, sexy makeup enchanted on them, dark lashes brushing the tops of her cheekbones. For one of the first times in her life, Hermione felt pretty.

She strode towards Draco's connecting door, marching into his bedroom. She fully expected him to be passed out in a drunken stupor, and was therefore pleasantly surprised when his bedroom door swung open, out striding an immaculate looking Draco Malfoy. He was dressed in typical, high end wizard's robes, with a black bow tie. His overgrown, blonde hair was pushed back in an accidentally sexy kind of way. His eyes sparkling, he gave Hermione a once over. She suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Draco stared unabashedly at Hermione. He had obviously always been attracted to her in her most natural way, but there was something about her dolled up that terrified and turned him on, all at the same time. He realized he had been staring at her open-mouthed for at least thirty seconds. He cleared his throat. "You, uh; you look great." Understatement of the year, he thought. She looked absolutely ravishing and intimidating. Hermione huskily murmured back, "as do you." She shook her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders. "Right, well, we should be going to greet the students."

"Right. May I?" He offered her his arm, and she gladly took it as they walked out the door, into a tumultuous night awaiting them.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Draco practically floated with Hermione on his arm. Tonight was the one night they could flirt and touch in public as figureheads, letting their classmates know this was nothing more than an amiable partnership. After all, they had organized this entire ball for them. Well, Hermione had.

They reached the entrance to the Great Hall, forcing Hermione to let go of his arm. As she did, she let her fingers trail his elbow, down to his wrist and just missing his hand. It was enough to drive him mental. She gracefully walked to the other side, where lower class representatives were waiting for her orders. Draco admired her figure as she walked away from him. She immediately began giving orders, directing deliveries and last minute decorations. She resumed complete control, which turned Draco on immensely.

Soon, it was time for the ball to start, as students began queuing up to enter the hall. The theme was masquerade, much to Draco's dislike. He and Hermione greeted students and professors alike, and finally, it was time for their grand entrance. Taking a deep breath, Draco motioned for Hermione to put on her mask. He had put his emerald and black eye mask on before, inextricably matching to Hermione's gown. She nodded, slipping on her black mask. Draco extended his arm once more to her, and turned towards the doors. Two fifth year students opened the heavy doors, and they walked in to the ball to booming applause. They made a quick thank you speech to the teachers and students for helping organize the ball, and wished everyone a wonderful night. The ball had begun.

After the speech ended and the band started up, Draco placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back, whispering in her ear, "shall we dance?" She bit her lip and whispered back, "do you think that's a good idea?" He scoffed. "I don't care."

He lead Hermione on to the dance floor, much to the delight of the school gossips. They began a slow dance to a sultry song by The Weird Sisters, "I Put A Spell On You."

Hermione gripped his hand tighter and whispered, "we're being watched." Draco twirled her in the opposite direction to see what she was looking at. Weasley and Potter were staring open-mouthed, much to Draco's delight. Many Gryffindor students were muttering behind hands holding punch, most likely astonished at the sudden change in demeanor between the two prefects, something Draco hadn't figured out yet himself. He decided for the time being to push away his doubts and questions, and enjoy her until Hermione's sanity kicked in. When he looked back to Hermione, he saw pure adrenaline, excitement, and a hint of lust in her deep brown eyes. He surprised her with a low dip at just the right point in the song, making her gasp and blush. He brought her back up slowly, seductively, letting everyone there know exactly what kind of relationship they were in. The song ended and Draco reluctantly let her go. She stepped back, staring at him breathlessly. He found it excruciatingly difficult to let go of her, tightening his jaw and balling his hands. He might've kissed her, right there in the middle of the Great Hall had Weasel not cocked it all up.

"Oi! What in the bloody hell d'you think you're playing at!?"

Draco quickly channeled his lust and adrenaline for Hermione into venom as he turned around to face Ron. By this point, the shocked crowd had stopped dead, and a wide circle had opened with Ron and Draco in the middle. Hermione was standing at the outer edge next to Ginny, wringing her hands worriedly.

"Well, shit-stain," he began. "I believe I was dancing, something that was clearly not taught to you in the pig-pen." A gasp arose from the crowd of students. Hermione stepped in.

"Draco, that's enough. Ronald I need to speak with you-"

"No," bellowed Ron, pushing Hermione backwards. "I'm not finished."

When Ron touched Hermione, Draco saw red. She stumbled over her dress, but managed not to fall. His jaw twitching, Draco murmured dangerously,

"Don't touch her."

"What'd you say to me, ferret?" Yet Ron's face had gone red, knowing he had crossed the line.

"Don't- touch- her."

"I can touch her anyway I damn well please!" shouted Ron. "The fuck d'you think you are!? She's MINE, you little fu-"

Draco had had enough. He turned around as though to walk away, but as he did so, he coyly rolled up his sleeve. Turning around before Ron could duck, he swung, hitting Ron so hard he staggered backwards. Spitting blood, he reared back, punching Draco square in the eye. The crowd had pushed back, screaming with glee and excitement as the two boys brawled. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly the crowd parted, dying down almost immediately. Draco and Ron were wrestling, Draco pinning Ron down, trying to land a punch. Suddenly, billowing black robes filled his line of vision. A familiar voice said, "get up."

Draco knew he was in deep shit.

Sitting in Snape's office next to Ron, Professor Snape was explaining the situation to Dumbledore.. They were just outside, using dangerously low voices while the ball continued on upstairs without them. Dumbledore left, and Snape re-entered the room. "Weasley, you may leave. You will receive a week's worth of detention, scrubbing cauldrons for me every night from 5 o'clock to 8. Draco, you stay here."

Weasley shoved out of his chair, stalking out of the room. The door slammed behind him.

"What were you thinking?" asked Snape.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Professor," he spewed.

Snape took a deep, calming breath. "This-" he paused. "Infatuation with the mudblood has gone far enough. Word is going to spread."

Draco's palms were sweating. He knew this day would come, the day when Voldemort and his followers would demand his attention, pulling him out of his nirvana with Hermione inside the castle's walls. "I'll stop. I'll tell her to leave me be. Just don't let them know. Please, Snape don't let them know."

Snape stared at him warily for a moment. "Draco, you should know better. I will not tell them of your personal affiliations. However, I must know what is truly going on here. If you are merely toying with her, well, that would be understandable, perhaps even pleasing to the Dark Lord. However, if this little show you're putting on is more than that…"

While Snape was talking, Draco was running through multiple scenarios in his head. He pictured himself pushing her away. He saw himself pulling her closer, her laughing, him running his hands through her hair. Her making him tea in the morning. Her fingers, delicately tracing his wrist-

Something was wrong. The feeling came on so suddenly, so strong, Draco knew immediately what had happened. "Get out!" he screamed.

Snape's face was white, his fists clenched. Snape had seen, he knew, subtly performing legilimency, so remarkably talented that Draco had not detected him until it was too late.

"Draco," Snape whispered hoarsely. "What have you done?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It was past midnight. Hermione had come back to the dance after searching for Draco everywhere. She gave up, finding herself just outside the Gryffindor common room. She walked in, expecting Ron to be on the couch in front of the fire. When she saw he wasn't there, she had made a cup of tea and gone up to his room. She knocked quietly, cracking the door. Ron was nowhere to be seen. She walked over to his nightstand, setting the mug down. She performed a quick warming charm on the tea and turned to go.

Something caught her eye, forcing her to turn around again. There, behind the mug, was a picture. It was taken the summer before sixth year, so happy and carefree. Harry had his arm draped over her shoulders, and they were laughing. They had tanned faces, and their hair was blowing softly. Ron stood on the other side of Hermione, laughing at the camera and turning back to stare lovingly at her. She was utterly oblivious, laughing at something Ginny had said. The sight of it made her stomach turn over.

Now back at the ball, Hermione offered to help clean up and was shooed away by the ball committee, having organized the entire thing. They had tried to do her a kindness, not realizing that some good hard labor would ease Hermione's mind. Agitated and nervous, she wearily walked back to her room.

Draco had gone straight from Snape's office to his room, immediately pouring himself one, no, two, wait, how many was this? He had lost track. After Snape had invaded his head, they had gotten into a screaming match over his safety, Voldemort, and what Draco did and did not have to do. Livid and slightly ashamed, he decided to get hammered. It wasn't until he heard the heavy oak door of Hermione's side swing open that he realized how late it must be. She must have been off comforting Ronald, he thought bitterly. He swigged down his firewhiskey and stumbled towards the connecting doorway.

Hermione was inside, her back to him, making tea. She went through the motions gracefully, as if in a trance. She had kicked off her shoes, her dress unzipped halfway down her back. She paused in the tea making to stretch, running her fingers through her wavy hair. Draco groaned.

She spun around, alarmed. "I thought you'd be in bed."

"Well," he staggered. "It appears; not."

She stood stock still, then slowly bent down to pick up her shoes, never taking her eyes off him. "I looked for you," she said.

His head rocked heavily, though Draco suddenly felt completely sober.

"Before or after you went to him?"

She swallowed. He felt numb.

Hermione seemed to cave in on herself, exhausted. "Draco, I don't have the energy to talk about this just now. Why don't we just go to bed?"

He shook his head. "Did you go to him?"

"Well, yes, but, after I looked for you!"

He laughed bitterly. "Took an awful long time then."

Her face reddened. "For your information, I didn't find either of you until just now."

"Do you want him?"

Hermione blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Do you want him?"

She stuttered. "N-no, no Draco I don't want him."

Draco slumped down, falling against the wall. "Why are you lying to me."

It wasn't a question, and they both knew it. Hermione's chest was heaving, the moonlight casting shadows across her face. She looked torn, conflicted between the past and the future. Draco had a sick thought, making his stomach churn and the words spill out of his mouth as heavy as rocks.

"Did you fuck him?"

The world stood still. Hermione's limbs seemed to stiffen, her hair standing on end. Her eyes sparked, magic and fear seeping out of her like a sponge.

"Draco," she whispered. "It's not like that. It's; it's just that we're very close and we've had a rocky relationship."

"Did you?"

Draco stared her down, not letting her get away from this one. He wanted to go to her, have her hold him in her arms and make him feel safe. Safe from his future, safe from his past and everything in between. He wanted to run away, protect her from himself and everything that entails. He wanted to love her. He wanted to leave her.

"No," she finally said. She stood taller, squaring her shoulders and lifting her head cockily. "I didn't sleep with Ron."

Draco nodded slowly, suddenly overcome by firewhiskey and exhaustion. The last thing he saw was Hermione running over to him before his world faded to darkness.

Draco awoke the next morning in an unfamiliar room. A light blue quilt filled his vision, white curtains letting in an ample amount of light. The smell of lavender filled the air. He rolled over, craving the feel of her against his skin, then moaned at the empty sheets that filled his hands instead. The door creaked open, as Hermione walked in, stretching her arms to the ceiling. She was barefoot in his t shirt, smudged makeup and curls wild about her face from the night before. She was beautiful.

"I didn't think you'd be up this early," she remarked curtly. Clearly he had done something wrong. He groaned again, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight filtering through the room. "What'd I do?" he asked groggily.

"Well, let's see. D'you mean before or after passing out on my floor?"

Draco vaguely recalled Hermione dragging him into her bed, where he then tried to tell her she was awfully pretty for a nerd. Draco shuddered, mortified. "Sorry."

He took his arm away from his face to see Hermione perching on the edge of the bed, watching him. She smirked, trying not to laugh. "What's so funny, Granger?" he asked darkly.

"Ron really packed a punch," she said, giggling. He felt his jaw, rotating it slowly and hearing a pop. He could tell there was a massive bruise. He pushed himself up on one arm, letting the quilt fall down around his waist. The sun immediately began to warm his bare chest, which Hermione's eyes immediately darted to. He held out his other hand, inviting her to take it. She did, moving closer to him on the bed.

Hermione's skin vibrated at his touch. He looked gorgeous in the early morning, sleepy and tousled. He lightly traced her jawline, rubbing his thumb over her lips. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm. She could feel his every move in the bottom of her stomach, letting out a quivering breath when he brushed down her neck. He leaned closer to her, gently kissing her collarbone. His hair tickled her, making her laugh lightly. He returned her laugh with a deep throaty chuckle, moving up her neck towards her jaw and hovering over her lips. This was the defining moment. There was no firewhiskey, no sleep deprivation to hide behind. No excitement, no in-the-moment excuses. Wide awake, jarringly aware of their decisions. Hermione was scared, hovering in the balance between fond mistake and life changing relationship. It wasn't until Draco pulled back that she realized what her decision would be.

They were kissing as if they had trained for it their entire lives. Like puzzle pieces, they connected and locked onto one another. It was slow, peaceful, and tender. It was terrifying and exhilarating. Hermione opened up to him like a flower to the sun, and he shone upon her in glorious rays of intensity. Unbeknownst to the other, they had both waited for this moment for a long time, replaying it in their heads while kissing someone else, imagining the feel of one another on lonely nights, in the middle of classes and hallways. So long had they hid behind rivalries, blood statuses, and competitions that now seemed so minute.

Hermione laid down onto the bed, kissing him all the while. She pushed him away, earning her a wounded look. She grabbed her shirt from the bottom, pulling it swiftly over her head, exposing herself completely to him. He groaned, grabbing her waist and pushing her back down. She arched her back as he kissed her neck, leaving a trail of fire down her chest. He massaged her, sending her nerves on fire, eliciting moans of pleasure from them both. She kissed his throat, shoulders, chest, anything close to her. She felt like Icarus, overcome by her own joy she was burned by his light. Slowly, their movements became less frantic and more gentle. Draco stared deep into her eyes, and she nodded. No words were needed, no awkward fumbling. They were made to do this, seal their very existence to one another in a way they could never do with anyone else. Draco slid into Hermione, making them both gasp, his face contorted in pleasure as she tilted her head back, breathless at the feel of him buried within her, fitting like a lock and key. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Neither of them were virgins, something they both knew and felt no need to question until the night before. Yet now it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered but the two of them.

Draco settled himself within her, completely enthralled by her touch and her beauty. She lay beneath him, glowing as the early morning sun. He stopped, letting their chests rise and fall together in perfect synchronicity. He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her waiting mouth. Thrusting hips and gripping shoulders, they gave their souls to one another as the sun turned to clouds, rain pattering the window. For long, sensual moments the only sound that filled the room was their panting, the rain, and her moans. Draco was on fire, in lust and love with the soul that lay bare before him.

Hermione could feel the build up, his every muscle constricting with her own, and they released at the same moment, as if as a sign from fate.

What seemed like hours later, wrapped around her like a vine, Draco slipped out of Hermione, making her wince. The air around them grew cold, the moment broken by his disconnection. He sat up, burying his head in his hands. As if things weren't complicated enough before, he thought.

He turned back to look at Hermione. She lay on her side, exposed to him in total comfort. She seemed to understand the conflicting emotions on his face, for she reached out, massaging his shoulder till he lay down beside her, where they drifted into a peaceful sleep.

What Hermione didn't know was that Draco had made a promise to himself, a promise that was now irrefutably broken.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 It was late afternoon when she woke up alone. The rain against her window tapped her into consciousness where she was greeted by a cold empty bed. Hermione sat up, pulling her legs closer to her and burying her head in her hands. Her clothes lay strewn about the room, carelessly discarded in the morning's activities. She never dreamt her first time with Draco would be the way it was. To her, it was better. A few moments later she was entering the Great Hall for something to eat. She spotted Harry, sitting alone at the far end of the table, pondering a cup of tea. Harry looked up as she sat down across from him, judging by the strange look in her eyes that something had happened. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "What're you looking at me like that for?" Harry glanced down, stirring his tea slowly. "I just thought you looked different is all." Hermione went red, and started to reply to Harry when she heard a swishing of robes from the entrance. Snape was glancing warily at her, then turned on his heel and left. "Did you just see that? Hermione? What's going on?" Hermione had seen. She had seen Snape, staring at Hermione as if silently interrogating her. She had seen the look of pure fear, adrenaline and concern etched on his face. A look that sent chills down Hermione's spine. Apparently Harry came to the same conclusion. "Hermione…where's Draco?" Hermione was gone, running down the Great Hall, down the staircase, past the kitchens and into the dungeons, rounding a corner and slamming into Professor Snape's door. She burst into the room, out of breath and terrified. Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be arguing, but stopped immediately when Hermione snapped the door open. "Where is he?" she panted. "Where's Draco?" "Now Miss Granger, you must calm down," began Dumbledore, but Snape interrupted him with a glare towards Hermione. "I could ask you the same thing, Granger. I thought for sure you would know." The look on Hermione's face gave Snape all the answers he so desperately needed. "I knew it," he said quietly. "It was only a matter of time." "Wh-what are you talking about?" she stammered. Dumbledore glanced at her apologetically, "Miss Granger, I think it would be best if you didn't know." Dumbledore had never treated her this way before, like a lovesick school girl who wouldn't know any better. He had always treated her with respect, as an equal in both wit and dignity. "Is this about Voldemort? Because Professor, I assure you, I definitely need to be here for this." "Granger, if you really must know, it seems your little lover-boy has become fed up with it all, and decided to join the Dark Lord after all, completely negating our entire plan, and possibly sending the Wizarding World into absolute war. Congratulations, I hope your little romp was worth it," he finished with a spat. "I don't understand," she whispered, her head reeling. Dumbledore sighed wearily, placing his hands together. He began gently, "Hermione, Draco and Professor Snape have been in the Dark Lord's circle as spies for me. The plan was that Draco, after careful plotting and diligent lessons in Occlumency, would receive his Dark Mark in order to seal himself into the inner circle. However, it seems that Draco has made a change of plans, without informing any of us, to go ahead and do this a lot sooner than expected." Hermione's mouth had gone dry, her hands itching. "How much sooner?" "Right now." 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Draco paced back and forth on the plush carpet, wringing his hands nervously. All he could see was her face, and the look of betrayal she must have felt when she inevitably discovered he had left. She was too damn smart, he thought. Too damn smart to understand. As Draco waited, he realized that for as smart as Hermione was, she would never understand. She would never know his reasoning. Because he hadnThey

**Lucius beamed, unaware of any signs of distrust, of years of psychological abuse etched all over Draco**I

** Hermione raced back to her room, throwing herself against her door and into her kitchen, sprinting to the secret spot behind the stove to retrieve her bottomless bag. She had stocked it up in case her, Ron, and Harry needed to leave. Oh how things had changed. **

**She took one last look around her dorm, wondering when the next time she sees it would be. On a whim, she found herself in his room, packing some of his things. As she turned to go, she saw on the floor, underneath a t shirt, a folded Hogwarts Weekly, the student-run newspaper. On the page folded up was Hermione, held in Draco**Draco my boy,I see you

The sound was like a thousand snakes all moving at once. Slow, sharp pricks traveled up DracoMy dear,What are you hiding from us?s palms had begun to sweat with the effort of keeping her safe in his mind against the Death Eaters. He felt it as though it was a physical muscle, twitching in his temples. She was throbbing through his body, her very memory seeping out of his pores like a sponge, waiting to be sucked up.

**called Yaxley. **

**Draco tried to remain calm, though his father bristled. t return to the Dark Lord **

**mumbled Voldemort, his gaze boring into Draco like knives. Silence reigned over the room once more. **

**He extended one pale arm, bony fingers wrapped around a long, ominous looking wand. **

**Hermione raced through the thicket, scratching her arms and face as the rain pelted down her back, plastering her braid to her skin. She ran as fast as she could, jumping and dodging branches and thorns until she reached the clearing. After arguing with Snape and Dumbledore for close to an hour, she had come to the conclusion that no one knew Draco the way she did. At least, she hoped. **

**Her thought process led her to thinking that Draco was facing his fear in order to protect her, out of love for her or hatred of himself, she wasnt matter now. All that mattered was him escaping, before Voldemort saw just what he was trying to protect. **

**She hadns initiation as frightening for him as possible. Which meant only one thing: Home. **

**She had seen a picture of the manor, once, a few months back. She had been helping Ginny clean the bedrooms out when she discovered an old photo album, full of pictures of Sirius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda when they were children. There was one picture of Narcissa**I do not understand, my well then. Now, come here Draco, and let me have a look at my newest warrior.s sleeve, revealing an unmarked, pale forearm wrapped in veins. His skin jumped at the Dark Lordt till the light adjusted that Dracos inner circle; Fenrir Greyback. Yet what writhed in his arms was even worse.

Defiant eyes staring back at him from all the way across the room, hair wild and a nasty cut on her cheek, was Hermione, come to save him.

But now they both needed saving.


End file.
